Wanderer Above a Sea of Fog
by TheGreyAngel
Summary: A man's fate is no certain thing. When a certain angel arrives several months early at Tokyo-3, how will the lives of these fragile souls on Earth change?
1. Prologue

**Disclaimer**: I own none of the characters or franchises associated with this story, and do not profit in any fiscal sense from writing it. Any resemblances to real events and people are purely coincidental.

**Prologue: In the Beginning was the Word**

_"It is the stillest words that bring on the storm. Thoughts that come on doves' feet guide the world."_

_-Thus Spoke Zarathusthra_

Behold the child. Pale, almost translucent, floating gently in the sterile cylinder, examined by spectacled eyes. Streams of bubbles from his nose and mouth, soft breaths from a peaceful and oblivious sleep.

One word, and the tube is drained and opened, and he is exposed, sticky and dripping with the thick orange fluid which sustained him. His eyes are clasped shut, and he gasps painfully for breath. There is no mother here, no father, no midwife to offer comforting words, no wet nurse to feed him. He writhes, almost panicking.

The doctors observe with detached interest, crossing their arms and squinting their eyes, that he lacks all skin and eye pigment – albinism. They wonder if they made a mistake – 'Should we dispose of it and try again?' they wonder, comparing the costs and possible outcomes, the flaws of genetic integration, retooling the viral plasmids, and so forth. And what an odd-looking child, so pale and delicate. It seems ethereal, unnatural – a false copy, a misplaced graft, something different from humanity. After so many failures and monsters created, this one seems unnatural on yet another level – it appears too well made. The doctors buzz about deciding whether to give it further life.

After some half-hearted deliberation, they decide to let this one live for now. He's the healthiest one in a while. They might as well continue this trial. See if there are any possibilities for further use.

He is wheeled away and placed in some blankets, in a clean little room of the facility, in the pure oxygen chamber, where his brothers and sisters lay last, and were then disposed of because of some anomaly or deformity or mistake. The scientists fill out paperwork. Out of some cruel sense of irony, they draw up a birth certificate, as part of the plans to camouflage this manufactured life. September 13, 2000. _Die zweite Aufschlag__. _Aside from that, he has no name, just subject number 17.

* * *

><p>The boy grows unnaturally quickly. His growth accelerates far ahead of projections. He becomes a child, and a teenager, and then his body begins to slow down. He is thin, young, and in fair health. He cannot consume some foods without an allergic reaction, and has to take a regimen of vitamin pills every morning, but he is healthy, sane, and alive.<p>

He is tested, checked, probed and pricked with needles and instruments. Speculums, sphygmomanometers, _elektrokardiograms_, and other words pass over him, another foreign language. Mechanical examinations. His life is a battery of tests, reducing every event and aspect of him to raw data. He feels an empty numbness, not comprehending what sort of things they do.

His training began early, and progressed quickly. His education accelerated far ahead of even the advanced _Gymnasiums_. The private tutors brought to the facility for him are amazed with his progress, about how much he learns, how he corrects them. But his curiosity and exploration is limited, and they reveal to him only would they would prefer for him to know. Only subjects of a military or technical field are given to him, and even then with heavy censoring. Wonderful progress, delightful, extraordinary, it is recorded. A true superhuman - extraordinary progress, superior in every way.

Of course, he hears none of this. Don't let others taint this experiment! It must progress within an isolated and sterile environment, in order to prevent contamination of the test subject's psychology. His sole aim and purpose of being is to be a weapon of war, a perfect soldier. He quickly learns to hide his feelings, draw a mask over himself. If he asked too many questions, it was made too clear that he would be liquidated. He is to be given no illusions about the nature of control over his life.

* * *

><p>Despite this constriction and blinding, he somehow experiences freedom for the first time. Doubts grow within him. He follows his orders, but dares to think, "Why?" But his thoughts are fleeting, still struggling to grasp the world about him.<p>

The young doctor decides to give him supplemental lessons of his own, of a different sort. First banned books, which he pores over and devours. Hemingway, Mann, Hesse, Steinbeck, Tolstoy, a whole Bible, and so many others. He learns about forbidden emotions, thoughts, feelings, about people, begins to grasp at the concepts of death and life and love. He hungers for more. The young doctor prepares piles of books for him, smuggles them into the facility, which he reads in a sitting.

Eventually, he is given a library card and access to the central university library system, and checks out whatever things he likes. By the time he is biologically 14, he has expressed interests in sociology, non-linear dynamics, neuroscience, game theory, aeronautics, theoretical and speculative biology, cognitive psychology, meta-materials engineering, philosophy, particle physics and is able to hold a university-level conversation in any of these, even writing a speculative paper, which is published anonymously, and is later circulated and discussed by the readers of _Natur_, _Wissenschaft_, and all the major newspapers.

He adores these new things, going wide eyed with the joy of discovering a new world entirely. He longs so much for the world outside of the white-washed containment which has been arranged for him. The actions and thoughts are outside of his own experience, but he is curious about studying them, as he has been studied for his entire life. The young doctor sees him curled up with books or sleeping gently amongst them. The doctor is careful not to arouse suspicion.

The young boy reads and devours, but there is still a quiet gnawing within him – loneliness. All he has known is isolations, quarantines, procedures, and examinations, aside from the mere glimpses of the outside world that the young doctor has given him. The doctor decides it is time to take him on a little adventure, to see a little bit of the world.

* * *

><p>Lifted up by the good doctor, he sees the grand <em>Prachtallee<em> of the capital city. All the glories of history and conquest are within his sight. A storm of people around him, with their loud voices, swarms of them in grey tweed suits and hats. Theaters in the Greek style, medieval castles, museums, theaters, galleries, palaces, and skyscrapers, all draped with the Schwarz-Weiss-Rot flag, and the vast imposing dome of the _Volkshalle_, the largest enclosed space in the world. He cannot contain his delight. He is almost overloaded with all of these new sights, sounds, experiences. The giant _Weltkrieg-Triomphe-Bogen_ looms over the city, with its millions of names inscribed in Roman script. The odd couple has a jolly time, together, seeing everything the city of marble and monuments has to offer. What interests him most are the people. They view him, an albino, as a curiosity, as most genetic imperfections are rare these days. And he is interested in people who have no interest in testing him yet again, like the ones he hears about in books so often, but never really gets to meet.

For a brief moment, he hopes. And dreams. He looks up at the stars, for the first time in his life. He smiles.

Of course this happy little dream world with the doctor is smashed, like a sledgehammer to a snowglobe. Police quickly gain word of this unusual escapee. Higher echelons, those beyond the government, send word that these people should be acquired. The men in black coats come as shadows, in the middle of the night. They drug the two, hiding in a little hotel suite, and are taken. The child is separated from the doctor. Strict discipline is applied, in order to contain the damage that was done, prevent any further attachments from forming.

The child is sent away to Japan, Tokyo-3, ahead of schedule. The young doctor's interference is totally unacceptable. He disappears into the apparatus of the state, possibly to turn up in a few years, whiling away in obscurity, studying diseases and mutations in the ruined flood plains of_ Mittelafrika_, then wasting away himself, a mottled yellow half-corpse. Devoured by the beast of the state.

The people there have very good methods, a strict security apparatus. They've learned a good Prussian discipline. He will do well there, and be productive. There is much to be done, and the plan must go forward. He has a manufactured identity for the trip, and a cover story. The name uses an archaic character (a mistake of the translator) but nobody questions anything here, especially not anything this important, and with the backing of such important men. The paperwork goes through. And soon, Kaworu Nagisa would arrive in Tokyo-3, quietly working to fulfill his destiny, and change the momentum of human history.

* * *

><p>My first story here. Thoughts and all criticisms welcome.<p> 


	2. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer**: I own none of the characters or franchises, and make no profit from writing this.

Note: All German conversations will be placed in hash marks, /like so/.

**Chapter 1: For Beauty is Nothing but the Beginning of Terror**

_"The meeting of two personalities is like the contact of two chemical substances; if there is any reaction, both are transformed."_

_-Carl Gustav Jung_

A ghost shrieks across the sky. The black Horten jet descends from the heavens, shrieking as its wheels skid across the runway. A metallic flaming chariot, performing its special task of carrying one passenger, some papers and a half-full suitcase.

Kaworu Nagisa, Fourth Child, leafs through his papers. Dossiers, mission reports, blueprints of the NERV facility, all stamped [GEHEIM!] - what his puppetmasters at SEELE have spent so much time and effort to obtain, with its vast network of informers and surveillance teams. He glances through them as quickly as possible, feeling almost anxious, just wanting to move on. He'd rather look out the window, see the orange and violet dawn sky, but these are orders. The first encounters with the angels unsettle him. The photographs of bloodstain-speckled buildings, blasted craters where thousands once lived, then died, of the angels' dissected corpses, with their skin peeled back and pinned like butterfly wings. He puts them aside.

He lingers over the psych profiles of the other children, staring at their photographs. Rei's dossier is a blank mass, with a neat line and a photograph on top - just a name and a face, both revealing nothing about her, and therefore volumes about SEELE. After all of the information they have fed him about the other pilots, they would have the motive to hide something from him? They are too competent to have found out nothing. This is too obvious. She looks too much like him, which again fascinates him.

Next, Asuka's. Phrases from the biography jump out at him. "Incredibly strong willed." "Child prodigy." "Has a strong desire to prove self to others." "May disregard orders of caution for chance of personal glory." "L-M-Universität München." Her photograph shows her intense burning glance and upheld chin, daring him and all others to challenge her. He imagines her ordering the photographer to retake the picture until it is right. Again, she, too, strikes him as interesting. A total opposite to Rei.

Finally, Shinji's. This briefing he handles tenderly and slowly. He examines a life which is at turns both ordinary and deeply tragic. Dead mother, distant father, stayed with relatives. "Has potential, yet may lack willpower. Possible melancholic tendencies." The photograph strikes him the most. Couldn't anyone tell that this boy was clearly suffering, his eyes filled with secret sorrow? He looks at the pictures of the children one last time, bidding them farewell, before putting them in the burn bag with the rest.

* * *

><p>"Eh? What do you mean, they're sending another one?"<p>

"A new pilot is being transferred to Tokyo-3. They'll be living here. It makes sense, don't you think? After all, all of the angels attacked here. It'd only make sense for the other pilots and Evas to get sent over soon. I also hear the Americans will be sending theirs over too."

"Ah, I see." No emotion could be heard in his voice, just sterile recognition.

"That's a good thing! Cheer up a little."

"Really, Misato-san?"

"Yes, Shinji-kun. You've been doing a lot, and you deserve to have some others share the load. It'll be good – you get some friends, and will probably get some rest out of it too. Chin up, OK? I'll be treating you all to a good dinner to relax, it'll be fun. Take care now-"

"Goodbye, Misato-san."

Observe Shinji Ikari, as he slouches towards another school day. First out of the disordered apartment where he lives with Misato and Asuka, then down the identical apartment blocks – vast ruined columns along the roadside, like the bones of a dead giant. Then down the cracked concrete street to school. He is not the happiest child, but neither is he the most despairing. He feels isolated and alone, more than anything. The tasks assigned to him are extraordinary, but life to him has a certain dullness which cannot be cleared up. Others swirl around him, as grey smoke. He is lost in his own mind, as adolescents are. Time passes slowly.

The old teacher clears his throat, and calls for the students' attention, telling them that they have yet another new transfer student. He fumbles with his glasses, holding the letter close to his face. "Class, please give him a warm welcome." Shinji looks up.

He sees Kaworu's thin, lithe figure and immaculate uniform, gliding across the room, his movements as precise as an oiled-machine, from the easy confidence of his footfalls to the way he writes the kana of his name on the chalkboard in large, neat strokes. His presence radiates in waves across the room. The class is silent, waiting upon his words. He is seducing them.

He gazes out at them for a second, absorbing the atmosphere, seeing their emotions. He smiles, breathes in, and speaks in a measured cool tone.

"Hello, everyone. My name is Kaworu Nagisa. I transferred here from Germany. I look forward to being with you all." He looks at the teacher expectantly.

"Oh – oh yes. Who will help guide our new student around th-"  
>"I will, Sensei."<p>

The class slowly turns to see standing in a position of dominance, looking Kaworu straight in the eye and hand raised, Asuka Langley Soryu.

"Very well, then, Asuka. Kaworu, please take the empty seat next to hers."

Shinji looks at his lap with resignation and sighs. Asuka pulls out the chair, and Kaworu takes his place. Murmurs shudder through the class. The teacher turns to the chalkboard, mumbles to himself the history of the Second and Third World Wars.

Asuka turns to her new acquisition, looking him up and down. She asks him in hushed tones: /So, you're German?/

"Ja. Und Sie?"

/Of course! So – tell me about yourself, new boy. You look a lot like Rei (she makes a motion with her hand) – does that mean you are a doll, too, like her?/

/I do look like her, yes. As for being like her, I do not yet know./

/Ha! Well, you've said more words now than she has all year. I'll say that's good enough, you little cat./

/Excuse me?/

"Ah, you two are talking. You must be discussing the lecture. One of you, tell me the year of the Treaty of Zurich?" the teacher pokes his head between the two.

Asuka stands up. "1955, sir."  
>"Good, good. Now, as I was saying – the main effects of the treaty were the partition of..."<p>

Their conversation cut short, they don't even feign interest in the lecture - Asuka staring at Kaworu, and Kaworu's gaze wandering all over the class.

This first class ends, and Kaworu sees Rei, sitting by herself, gazing at some unknown object in the distance. He eases up to her, says hello.

She turns and looks at him, repeats his greeting. He smiles, remarks how they look alike – are they the same? No response.

This first contact is stopped with his curious classmates drag him away and interrogate him. His first interactions with people in groups are awkward and forced, because of their extreme mutual interest. His classmates pepper him with questions, as well as Asuka, who is proud to still be the center of attention. He looks like an anime character, they say, to his puzzled glance. His first school days are rushed and go by in a blur.

* * *

><p>It is late afternoon, and the students are due to go home. The sun shines heavy through the windows, casting long shadows on the faces of the students and on the walls. The grey child walks through the corridor, hands in pockets, head down, with his enigmatic smile, musing on what he has seen and heard, surveying the other children with the detachment of an anthropologist who has uncovered a bizarre and curious ritual. What strange creatures are these others, flittering about. Carefree they are, and profoundly ignorant, yet how kind, how … curious. These wayward musings are stopped when he hears the low voice of a cello. Kaworu stops, cranes his head, and finds Shinji, stooped over, playing the tender strains of Bach's first cello concerto.<p>

Kaworu stops, and smiles, taking in the sweet harmonious sounds of Shinji's playing. He refuses to disturb this tender song. Shinji brings it to a close, sighs. He just notices Kaworu and is shocked out of his seat.

"Ah – Kaworu-san! I didn't expect to see you here."

"Hello, Shinji-kun. You play well."

Shinji turns an embarrassingly bright shade of red, and scrunches his hands together. "I'm not that good. Really."

"Yes you are, Shinji-kun. You play it very well – you put your heart and soul into it. Isn't that what music is? A reflection of the human soul?"

He hesitates. "Yes, it is."

"I play music too. Maybe we could try something together."

"That would be great, Kaworu." A hint of a smile.

"I'll be seeing you, Shinji-kun."

The bells at the school gate ring, intoning harmony.

* * *

><p>A bright narrow light, piercing like a knife his red eyes. Dr. Ritsuko Akagi, chief of scientific and medical personnel of NERV, gives Kaworu an examination with an ophthalmoscope.<p>

"Well, you seem to be in good shape, Kaworu. But I'll have to give you daily checkups and give you pills monthly, like back in Germany. They shouldn't be too bad. Probably not as thorough as this."

"I see, Dr. Akagi. Thank you."

The stench of coffee breath and cheap cigarettes. The focused light shines through him.

The doctor looks down in thought, then snaps to attention.

"Oh, yes, Kaworu."

"Yes, Dr. Akagi?"

"Today, we're performing a special test. The pilots are being tested on their compatibility and synchronization with Eva Units different from the originals. I'm sure you already know how the units work, and why this is important. Anyways - would you like to see?"

The grey child nods his assent. He is led through the twisted labyrinth of NERV, and into a narrow control room, named 'Pribnow' after the geneticist, with a wide clear view of the padded testing chamber – like a padded room in a lunatic asylum. Contained within is the looming figure of Unit 01 – a behemoth painted garish purple and green. Rei is testing it instead of her typical Unit 00. She has a faraway and distant look in her eyes, as though she was not present in her body and lifted up into some more spiritual place. The grey child stares at the view screen with intense interest. Dr. Akagi converses with one of her subordinates, tries to reassure her. Major Katsuragi shakes his hand, greets him, with the combination of easygoing and reserve that characterizes superior officers.

Asuka's test next. She has no interest in piloting another unit, and this is yet another synch test. Number 87 passes without any troubles. She treats the procedure with infinite scorn – another mere routine. Not worth her time.

Now it is Shinji's turn. His first time in the austere cramped space of Unit 00. A distinct alien feeling washes over him, as he has intruded into some sacred isolated sanctum not yet observed by and defiled. His delicate eyes betray his embarrassment. He says it smells funny. Asuka treats this as a perverted joke, laughs at his redness, deepening his shame further.

"All right. We're connecting Nerve Bundle A-10. Increase the harmonization levels."

Shinji gasps, a tendril of a foreign parasite enters his mind. "S-s-something's wrong." Red stars flash in front of him. The thing looks at him, approaches him with wide eyes. It overwhelms him with her presence, surrounding him, tearing away at his skin, pushing out from behind his eyes.

It tears away from its restraints in a furor of sinewy cables and torn metal, twists its back in agony, clutches its head, roars, scratches and pulls at invisible strands of hair on its head, pounds against itself. Katsuragi orders the battery cable cut. It ejects in a hiss of steam, as the unit flails around, scratching and tearing at itself, howling with animalistic rage. It sees the windows of the test chamber, and pounds away at it, leaving giant concave impressions against the reinforced glass. The technicians abandon their posts and scatter, leaving Rei staring at her own unit rebelling in pain. Kaworu seizes her by the arm and runs as Dr. Akagi closes off the test room.

Consumed and worn out, the unit rests its battered head against the wall and falls. Shinji is taken out and rushed to the medical wing.

He wakes up days later, thin and emaciated, alone, with the sound of a banal TV program his only accompaniment. None have been allowed to see him.

* * *

><p>Kaworu sits in his meager room, meditative. The dangers of his new profession have been severely understated. A new unit is to be sent for him from America. He has been reassured that this was an aberration, the kind of thing that the experiment was designed to discover, and that such a thing would not happen to him. But this is not the long thing that troubles his thoughts. He feels a growing doubt, a seed of rebellion in him, a desire to smash everything he sees, like the Eva itself, rejecting an unknown parasitic presence. All of their small fragile lives can be snuffed out with a single finger. All of it, burn it down. Grind it into dust within his fingers. Tear it open and feast on the inside and dance with pious ecstasy amongst the corpses.<p>

He gasps for breath, awoken in the middle of the night, the dewdrops of nervous sweat on him. He brushes water over his face, and listens to Bach on repeat until he falls asleep into uneasy dreams once more.

* * *

><p>Vice Commander Fuyutsuki finally has a moment alone at NERV. Another thankless day of work. He assures himself that he must subordinate himself to a greater scheme in order to advance it, that his superior's vast plans will eventually bear fruit, and so forth. But these abstract justifications don't help him sleep at night.<p>

He opens his briefcase, and pulls out a brown paper bag, which contains his dinner. He spreads a napkin across his desk, lays his sandwich perfectly in the center of it, and is about to lift it to his mouth as the telephone rings.

He sighs, laying aside his food and lifting the receiver to his face. "Vice-Commander Fuyutsuki speaking."

"I wish to speak to Commander Ikari."

He sighs with resignation. Couldn't the man just hire a secretary already? Or was that his job?

"I'm sorry, sir, but I can't do that without authorization or your clearance. The commander will not speak to anyone outside of-"

"He'll speak to me, Vice-Commander. I'm with SEELE – Department of Special Acquisitions and Research, Section 2. I'm to inform him about the new pilot."

Fuyutsuki raises an eyebrow, fiddles with a pen on his desk.

"What is your name, sir?"

"I have no name, Vice-Commander, as far as you are concerned. Get me Commander Ikari, please." Mocking iciness in his voice.

"I see. Very well, then." He flips the pen around and taps the line transfer button.

* * *

><p>A short time passes. The tired old man stares at a cheap book of word puzzles and fills in the word 'minotaur' with neat strokes in pen. He receives a curt message on the intercom, and treads the long corridor to Gendo's cavernous office. The commander beckons him to sit, and he obeys.<p>

"I am assuming, sir, that you called me here to discuss the recent news and the arrival from SEELE?"

The commander nods, assuming his trademark pose. Fuyutsuki knew, after years of devoted fealty, to provide utter respect and heed every word when he is like this.

"It's obvious they've been intending to usurp control of the facility for some time, sir. First the attempted sabotage on our facilities, now this new apparition. If I may hazard a guess, sir, he may be manufactured. From what?"

"The same process as Rei. The original material is still unknown. But he has inhuman material in him."

Fuyutsuki looks down, swallows his spit, collects his thoughts. "I see, sir. I'll tell the security teams and Dr. Akagi to put surveillance on him. We can't be too cautious. I think they may try and tip the balance of power their way."

"Let them try. This new pilot can easily be controlled, as Rei is. Those old men think they can control everything, but the more they try, more things slip away from them. We will fight them beyond the bitter end."

"So be it, sir."

* * *

><p><strong>End Note<strong>: Thank you all for the watches and my first review. This is my first story after all, and it is a bit of an ego boost, hehehe. I will try my best. My apologies for taking a while, as summer classes consume most of my time. I know that it does not differ from the TV show immensely yet, but I guarantee you waves are forming. All criticisms and reviews are welcome, of course.


	3. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer: **See previous chapter. It all still applies.**  
><strong>

**Chapter 2: Words in the Night Air**

_I do not care about that Book above. Erase my name, or write it as you will, so I be written in the Book of Love._

_-Omar Khayyam, The Rubaiyat_

It is morning. Soft rays of sunlight float through the cool and conditioned air. Little particles of dust, brought in by the wafting summer breeze, wander in their spiraling paths. A train horn sounds plaintive in the distance. Birds chant their morning hymns, sing their praises.

The grey child awakens in a haze, his vision clouds. He rubs his eyes, adjusts his pajama pants, and shambles, barefoot and shirtless, to the kitchen. Major Katsuragi, nor any of the other tenants, are anywhere to be found. In their stead, the house penguin, Pen-Pen, is rifling through the cabinets, dragging out a box of off-brand cereal. It warks at him, waddles to the living room, where it perches itself on the battered sofa and watches TV. The familiar brassy blare of the Tannhauser Overture on the morning news.

He smiles. After the events of the last day, the mere sight of a penguin is a welcome relief. Seeing these mechanical golems – the EVAs - rebel so violently was more than could be expected by the limited reason of any man or woman here. What kind of madness is NERV up to? With such damaged and violent tools, how could they possibly have succeeded against the angels so far? It is madness and the smiling vindictiveness and sadism of fortune which propels them forward. The sheer impracticality and selfsame madness of producing EVAs themselves, of forcing children into this role, of shunting him into combat and death and gore, as yet another weapon, to fight – the creation his life had been a reflection of that fanatic's philosophy. It is against reason. All this has long ago degenerated into madness. The slaughter and extermination of life continues, as it always has.

He cracks some eggs and prepares an omelet for himself, as well as some tea for his pills. Such thoughts are too dangerous to have this early in the morning. He must focus on other things.

His idle gaze wanders up from his breakfast and around the apartment. All the signs of life are there – dishes and empty beer cans stacked in the sink, coats and papers scattered around, Shinji's apron. His thoughts turn to the other pilots. Rei, the other half of his self - Asuka, with her violent strength of will - and Shinji. The survivor, the boy who yet refuses to surrender to his weakness. Clearly, he must learn more about these others. They are extraordinary in their own eccentricities.

Slowly the door hangs open. The dead-eyed stumbling figure of Misato steps in. Kaworu snaps to attention. "Major – are you OK? Is there anything I can do for you?"

She waves him away. "No, no, thank you. But how courteous of you – if I had any energy left in me, I'd be overjoyed to see a shirtless young boy like you do say he'll do anything I please." She chuckles a bit at her own sudden risqué joke. She is surprised at even her own indiscretion. Fortunately, the innuendo seemed to have gone right over his head, as he stared in innocent confusion. "No, I'm just tired. I've been up all night with damage control. I'll be going to bed for a couple hours, then back at it again."

"It must be a very difficult job you have. I admire your dedication, Major."

"Oh, you flatter me, Kaworu. But I think you all have a much harder job of it that I do. It's my job to keep an eye on you. If there is anything you need – anything – please tell me."

"I'd be glad to."

She takes off her uniform cap and heads towards her bedroom.

"Misato-san."

She stops. "Yes, Kaworu?"

"There is something I'd like to ask." He pauses for a moment, parsing his thoughts. "I am unfamiliar with Japanese customs, so I would like to know …"

"Yeees, Kaworu?" she raises an eyebrow and smirks.

He pauses a moment, licks his lips. "What do you do if you are strongly interested in – attracted to, I mean - another person?"

She looks at him with an astonished and surprised look on her face. She snorts and giggles, puts her hand on Kaworu's shoulder in a gesture of fraternity. "Ohhhh~ you've already found somebody interesting, haven't you? It's only been one day – my, my. How adventurous of you. Is it somebody at school?"

"Yes it is, Misato-san."

"Well, you're acting awfully fast. But I think I could help you out. Talk to them when they're alone, and then go somewhere friends go. Get to know them better, see how things develop. Maybe get some ice cream, it's still warm out. A movie might be good too."

Kaworu takes this all in, nods obediently. "Thank you, Misato-san. I must be getting ready for school."

"Oh, of course. Have a nice day, you little Casanova~"

* * *

><p>There, in the bowels of the facility, is the hospital at NERV. The place is suffocated by the sickly-sweet smell of a cheap disinfectant. He feels uneasy, vaguely nauseous. The lights blind him.<p>

He finds Shinji, leaving his room, his uneasy shrinking presence.

Kaworu stops for a moment, circles his head around like a periscope, leans in close to Shinji, and asks in a low, conspiratorial tone: "Do you want to go out and see a movie after school today?"

His mouth opens wide, he stutters. "Oh, uh… You mean today? After school? Uh, I…"

"That's right, Shinji-kun. I'd like to go with you very much."

Shinji looks at his shoes, mumbles. "Sure. I think so."

"I'm glad to hear that, Shinji-kun. Let's walk to school together."

"Sure, sure," Shinji replies, still unsure if all this is real.

* * *

><p>The school day rushes past. Shinji is anxious to go out with his new friend, who was so kind as to visit him. He daydreams, lost in thought about the past few days, how much has changed. Asuka is talking next to him, but he is too far away to listen.<p>

A minor spectacle at break time. A crowd is gathered around Kaworu, who is playing piano, the soft enveloping melodies and Beethoven's Tempest Sonata, movement three. The rise and fall on chromatic scales. Passionate intensity. The students applaud him when he is done, swarm him with questions. Hound him, ask him for clubs. The girls ask him about his life, is his hair real, would you like to do… He apologizes, brushes them off, says he already has plans for today, thank you for asking, I'll be happy to talk to you all later.

* * *

><p>Misato is sleep on her bed, not even having bothered to change out of her uniform. The telephone rings. She wakes up, and then tries to ignore it for a few second s before picking up her cell.<p>

"What."

"Misato, this Kaji. We need to talk. Meet me at the old Saijoji Temple in an hour."

"Mmmkshur." She drops the cell phone on the floor and rolls over before jumping out of bed a minute later and grabbing the car keys.

* * *

><p>The two boys walk down the crossed and winding roads. Kaworu is intensely curious, wanting to see more. Something within Shinji is holding him back, though, despite his excitement at the novelty of having another friend. He feels like the whole thing is a sham, that Kaworu will lead him into a TV studio, and tell him that the past few weeks were all a sham, that his misery was televised for the public's amusement. Disbelief smothers him inside.<p>

As they walk down a main street, Kaworu spies Pen-Pen buying a bit of fried fish from a vendor. He is fiddling with change with his beak, from a wallet with the words "Bad Motherfucker" stitched onto it in English. He smirks at this, and wonders vaguely how much Pen-Pen knows. If only that bird could talk.

They enter the movie theater, with dimmed lights, buy tickets. Kaworu leads Shinji by the hand, observes the behavior of the patrons, buys only one box of popcorn, sits him down in the very front center. The movie is an ordinary western, with gunfights and cowboys. Shinji fiddles around, as the movie seems boring to him – he'd rather look at the people – ordinary friends, couples kissing loudly, bored ushers, and his new strange friend. Kaworu is enchanted with the novelty of the whole experience, being up in front, next to the action. He eats the popcorn, slowly and delicately, one piece at a time, licking the butter off of his hands as a cat cleans its paws. This is all too adorable to Shinji, who stifles his giggling.

The movie ends, the two boys leave, exiting the sticky cocoon of the theater and into the dry warmth of the cheerful row of shops. They spot an ice cream stand, with the vendor shouting out his wares.

Kaworu remarks idly, "I haven't had ice cream."

"Eh? How could you not … you must have lived a very isolated life, Kaworu-kun…"

Kaworu looks down, his calm mood dampened. "I did."

"Well, you should have some."

"I should! I'll buy one for each of us."

Kaworu glides over to the vendor, buys one picked at random for him – mint - and a strawberry waffle cone for Shinji. Kaworu slowly touches it with his tongue.

"It's cold … and very sweet!" He then bites a large dollop of his scoop, winces as brain freeze sets in. He gags a little, and Shinji laughs at the audacity and silliness of it all, patting him on the back. How long has it been since he has had a moment like this? Of unguarded affection and friendliness?

The pair take the long road back home. They are content simply to be in each others' presence, chatting amicably about little meaningless things – the movie, the ice cream, school life. The sun beats down upon them, making them sweat and dampen their clothes, but they don't seem to mind. They stop at a public decorative fountain and cool each other off, splashing each other once or twice, laughing the whole way, hoping for this to always continue, for this day to never die.

* * *

><p>A skeleton of timbers lies heavy in the wilderness. It was a temple once. Time has worn it away, leaving a few columns, the torii gate, and the scattered tangle of cedar trees. The long stairway is now overgrown with weeds. A blue Renault Alpine is parked in front. The two once-lovers walk on their solitary way through the old forest. Grass and branches rustle underfoot.<p>

"Misato. I'm glad you could come out on such short notice." His face, worn down, tries and fails to put on its customary mask of aloofness.

"Mm. Not a problem. What did you need to discuss?"

He sighs, picks at his stubble. "I have some information. About the EVA program, NERV, and our new arrival."

"Hm. Well, if you want a group with skeletons in its closet, it's NERV. What gossip do you have for me?"

"It's not gossip, Misato. It's far worse than that." A trace of iron in his voice.

"Well, how bad is it?"

"Well, I'm technically supposed to spy on you all on behalf of the Japanese government. I've also…" He hesitates. Could he be spied on, even here?

"Kaji – what else is there? You mentioned NERV and shadow groups."

Tension in his voice. "I've listed and picked apart several hundred companies and front organizations, controlling everything from research institutes to public policy think-tanks to manufacturing to banks. Even cells operating within and above major world governments. Within the Japanese government, the American, and even the Germans are losing their grip. People are disappearing, Major. Whatever this group has in mind for us, it's not pretty. Everything imaginable is already controlled by them. They're not going to be nice and discreet and try covert ops against us, like snipers and assassinations, oh no. They've got a fucking howitzer pointed at our heads."

He exhales, taking a slow drag from his stub of a cigarette. The flame has reached the filter, and he throws it down, snubbing the fire with his heel.

"That new boy. Albino – head looks like a cotton ball. What's his name, again?"  
>"Kaworu Nagisa. He was very nice."<p>

"Don't trust him. Keep an eye on him at all times. He's a spy at best, and a sleeper agent at worst. Everything indicates that this group has a competing Eva program, working against ours."

"Why would they do that? Shouldn't we be pooling our resources?"

"A good question, and one I'm looking around for the answer for. There is more here that I haven't yet found out. I'm on dangerous ground here, but I have to keep going."

"I hope things will be OK, Kaji."

"I hope so too."

* * *

><p>Dinner time at the Katsuragi residence. A merry affair, with good food and a pleasant time offered to all. The three children, Misato and Kaji, were seated, having a bantering conversation. Smiles were plastered on all their faces.<p>

"So – where were you two all day?" Asuka wonders, focusing on Shinji, who is trying desperately to look as though he doesn't mind the question. "Were you little lovebirds going on a date?"

"N-no!"

"You were out a long time. You were making out somewhere, weren't you, little boys?"

"No! I swear we weren't! We only went to see a movie together!"

"A sappy romance, I bet."

"No – it was… it was… what was it again, Kaworu?"

"Ha! I knew it!" A triumphant grin on her face. "You see? You _were_ watching a-"

"Now, now, Asuka. Leave those two alone." Misato tries to keep a professional and stern look on her face.

"Wark!" Pen-pen grabs a piece of fish from the table, off of Asuka's plate.

"Hey! Give that back, you little-"

And so forth. The whole time is a rowdy and noisy affair. Shinji twists his chopsticks around, marveling almost at the good fortune he's had over the past day. Perhaps life is looking up for him after all. He scoops more food into his mouth.

* * *

><p>"Well, Misato and I have got to go to the wedding reception. Good bye, you all, and have fun."<p>

"Wait, Kaji-"

Too late, he is gone. She is jilted, left in the arch of the door, seeing him fade away into the darkness. She turns around and faces the others directly.

"Well, it's just the three of us, then."

She stands, statuesque, her hands on her hips, calculating. "So – now what are we going to do? Shall I have you two girly-boys kiss? Or should I kiss one of you, show you how it's really done?"

She advances. Kaworu looks on, a passive observer, Shinji with visible surprise.

She reaches forward and grabs Shinji, who squirms around. He shuts his mouth, she grabs his nose, holds his breath down. When he gasps for air, she assaults his mouth, forcing her tongue in. Shinji gags and pushes her away, rushing into his bedroom. Kaworu follows behind him. She quickly wipes the spit off her chin.

"I'll bet they already are fucking like rabbits."

* * *

><p>Night. The veil of darkness has descended upon the house, with Kaworu resting his head on his stretched arms on the floor, and Shinji curled up on the bed.<p>

"I should be sleeping on the floor, Kaworu."

"No, no! It's fine. I am your guest. I don't mind being here."

A pause. The rhythmic chirp of crickets.

"Kaworu?"

"Yes, Shinji."

"I, uh… I just want to thank you. For being with me today."

"It is a pleasure, Shinji-kun. You're a very interesting person."

"Wh-what?"

"I really do want to know more about you, Shinji-kun. People are unique in their own way, of course, but it is your unique combination of circumstances and your personality, and your actions. How you've managed to come so far and still act as you are, while still retaining your essential humanity – that much is very impressive to me."

"… I see, Kaworu. Thank you."

A gust of wind. Shinji breathes out a long sigh.

"What do you think about fate, Shinji-kun?"

"Fate?"

"Destiny. Whether or not a person has a set purpose in life, with which to aim for and achieve or whether they wander around, searching, or if they just wander without searching, as thin skeletons in the desert."

"Well… I think that people don't have a forced destiny. People can choose what to be, and aim for that. But we aren't totally alone either."

"Yes!" Kaworu says with a hint of force behind his smooth diction. "That is what I think, too, Shinji-kun. I'm glad we agree on that."

Kaworu stretches out, crossing his legs at the ankle, his feet poking out under the thin sheet. Shinji scrunches up his covers closer to his face. It is a while before Kaworu speaks again.

"I'm sorry things did not go well between you and Asuka."

"No, no, that's fine. She's always been like that, aggressive. As everybody is."

"What do you mean, Shinji-kun?"

"Well, I guess that people have always been distant to me. I'm not exactly sure what I'm doing wrong. Maybe I just make them mad for some reason."

"You don't make me mad, Shinji-kun."

"Thank you, Kaworu. That's very comforting to hear." Soft feelings in their voices.

"We all start alone in this world, Shinji-kun. It's those lucky ones amongst us who find another to intertwine their lives with."  
>"You really believe that?"<p>

"I do."

At this, he blushes, and looks down at his chest for a moment, presses the tips of his fingers together. Kaworu turns towards him.

"I feel like I was born to meet you, Shinji-kun."


	4. UPDATE - NEW STORY

ATTENTION EVERYONE STILL FOLLOWING THIS STORY:

I have not forgotten about it! I have had a terrible and very busy life over the past few years - but I have returned. And I assure you, I intend to complete this story. Kaworu and Shinji deserve better.

So much has changed between this draft and the final product, however, that I will likely start the whole story again as a 'new' piece. So please look forward to new updates on my account.

I wish you all the best, and look forward to sharing Kaworu and Shinji's journeys with you all soon.

-TheGreyAngel


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